


On Their Backs

by benvoliotheorphan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Suicide, The Last of Us AU, Zombie Apocalypse, but....mostly hurt, that major character death is no joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benvoliotheorphan/pseuds/benvoliotheorphan
Summary: It didn’t take them long to bury the bodies. As they stood over the unmarked graves, Bra wondered if she should at least be grateful that they were able to do something with their bodies.She was so tired of losing people.(an au based on the video game The Last of Us.)





	On Their Backs

**Author's Note:**

> Was originally posted on [tumblr](http://dbzhell.tumblr.com/post/137317426704/on-their-backs) on January 14, 2016.
> 
> PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS TAGS!
> 
> This is an AU based heavily on The Last of Us, so if you don’t like the game or don’t wish to be spoiled for it, best to avoid this. 
> 
> Also! Lots of character death, one of which is a suicide.
> 
> First real attempt at writing something with Bra and Vegeta as the main characters.

Bra watched with curious blue eyes as the man at the gate talked excitedly to another, his voice vaguely familiar as she caught glimpses of their conversation. Vegeta stood by her side, scowling at the two men as he impatiently crossed his arms. It was a familiar action her father often made, as he wasn’t keen on waiting (especially when taking too long could mean getting captured by hunters or bitten by infected). She understood and usually shared that same lack of patience, but in that moment she was glad for the wait.

Son Goku and Chi-Chi were just beyond that gate. And Bra wasn’t sure if she was ready to face them.

The chatter stopped and the gates opened, the man whom she somewhat recognized stepping through and walking towards them. As he drew nearer and she was better able to pick out his features, she quickly realized where she had seen him. Dark hair, longer and duller than she remembered, with a handsome, scarred face – her mother had many pictures of Yamcha, even a few videos. Her first boyfriend, and perhaps one of her best friends. Bulma had always spoken fondly of him, even after all the years they had been separated.

Vegeta never seemed to care for him. Even then, as Yamcha approached, a smile so wide that his eyes crinkled at their edges, her father scowled at him with distaste. Bra didn’t understand why, but given that it was her father, who disliked almost everyone, she figured she didn’t really need to.

“Hey! Vegeta!” Yamcha happily shouted as he came to a stop in front of the duo. “Long time, no see! Never thought I’d see you again.” Her father scoffed and turned away, his glare moving back towards the gate. Yamcha merely chuckled in response. “You may have gotten old but you haven’t changed a bit.”

“As if you’re one to talk!” Vegeta snapped, although his eyes remained glued on the gate. “You’ve aged far worse than I have.”

In all honesty, they looked about the same – middle aged and weary of the lives that got thrown at them. It was a miracle that both of them had only a hint of gray in their hair.

Yamcha’s eyes shifted to Bra and his smile dropped some, becoming smaller, softer. “This must be your daughter, then?” His voice remained just as loud and as joyous as before. “For a second there, I thought for sure she was Bulma! You’re the spitting image of your mother, you know.” Oh, she was well aware of that fact. So often in her lifetime she had been compared to her mother that hardly a day went by without someone mentioning it (well, days where they were around people who knew Bulma, at least). “I’m Yamcha. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I know who you are,” Bra unintentionally blurted, nerves coiled tightly in anticipation of the confrontation she knew was fast approaching. “Mom talked about you a lot.” She watched with a saddened heart as Yamcha picked up on the past tense phrasing and realized why it was just her and her father.  ”My name is Bra, and it's nice to finally meet you.”

Yamcha’s stance, which had slumped when he realized Bulma’s death, straightened as he let out a humorless laugh. “Huh, you’re actually polite too. Didn’t think that was possible with the Bulma and Vegeta combo.” She glared at him and he laughed some more. “And there’s the Vegeta! You look like your mother but your expressions are your father’s, for sure!”

“Yamcha!”

Both of them jumped and snapped their attention over towards Vegeta, startled by his sudden shout. Bra was especially surprised by the fact that he had used the man’s name; while it wasn’t uncommon for Yamcha to pop up in conversations, her mother had been the only one to ever properly address him. Vegeta was frowning, his eyes set to a hard glare, and she realized that perhaps the upcoming conversation was making him act a bit more kindly.

Yamcha, similarly, was suspicious of the use of his name, one eyebrow cocking upward as he stared at her father. “Whoa, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name.”

“Where’s Kakarrot?” Vegeta snapped, ignoring Yamcha's words, “I know that idiot is still alive and I need to speak to him.”

“Goku? Yeah, he’s around, but shouldn’t you go see Tights? I mean she needs to know about Bulma–”

Bra winced at the low growl that her father gave, his glare darkening and his body tensing. She recognized the look, knew that he was about to snap. The fact that it all had to do with the news he was going to give seemed weird, as she had only ever seen that look right before they had to defend themselves against an attack, be it from infected or humans.

“Kakarrot first,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “I have things that need to be discussed with him.”

Yamcha, luckily, recognized the signs of Vegeta’s aggression and simply nodded. “Got it. Come inside, I’ll go fetch him.” And with little more than a nod to Bra, he turned and made his retreat, legs moving at a brisk pace as he raced back through the gate of the small civilization.

Father and daughter silently followed after him, walking closely side by side, both cautiously eying those they passed. The town was supposed to be safe, a haven of sorts in the hell that the world had turned into, but they both knew that one could never be too careful.

Experience had hammered it into Bra’s mind at the very least.

_“Let’s just wait out.”_ Blonde hair, black eyes, a blood-stained nose-less face. The first casualty she had experienced, the one that started this whole mess.  _“We can be all poetic and lose our minds together.”_

A good plan, she supposed. If only it had worked.

Bra took in the town, with the houses close together and random people milling about the streets. They all stared at the duo as they passed, most of their eyes untrusting. It must’ve been a habit that even they couldn’t shake, despite all their security. 

Probably for the best. 

Security was a fickle thing.

When Yamcha returned to them and quickly ushered them into a domed house, Bra was amazed to see the lights on the ceiling were on and working. The town had electricity, just like  _he_  had said! Sure, back in the quarantine zone over in Satan City there was electricity, but it was rare and sparingly used – the military mostly hogged it for themselves. The fact that this small little town up in the mountains, far away from any major cities, had any that was used so willingly was amazingly foreign to her.

That amazement gave way to dread when a cheerful shout of her father’s name reached her ears and the couple they had come to see entered the room, bright and polite smiles stretching across their faces.

Oh.

_Oh!_

He looked just like Goten. And she, her resemblance to Pan was almost uncanny. The married couple walked towards them, their attention focused directly towards her father, and Bra couldn’t help but be grateful that they didn’t seem to notice her. Their dark hair wasn’t shiny and youthful, even carrying quite a few streaks of gray despite being younger than Vegeta, their faces were lined with wrinkles, and their eyes shone with a heavy tiredness that one only gets after being a part of this life for so many years. They looked different, like their own persons, but as Bra gazed at Goku and Chi-Chi, the images of her two friends refused to dissipate from her mind.

The two most recent casualties she had been forced to face this last year.

Her father mentioned privacy and they were once again ushered away.

* * *

Bra spent most of her life in a quarantine zone, safe from infected and “protected” by the military. During her short time - although it felt like forever - outside of such protection, she’d grown to fear and despise just one thing more than infected.

Who knew that humans could be so terrifying?

Well, judging by how effortlessly her father maneuvered them through the city, expertly avoiding conflict and waste of materials, Vegeta knew plenty about the horrors of man. Bra grasped tightly onto his arm as they moved along the ledge of the decrepit apartment building, blue eyes glued ahead as she struggled to ignore how far above the ground they were. Vegeta held up a hand, stopping them, as he pressed further into the wall. She mimicked his actions and held her breath, thankful that they were in an alleyway as the armored trunk the hunters were chasing them with slowly drove by.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, voice low and rough and oddly comforting in that moment, “they can’t see us.” Despite his words, her heart still raced and the cold feeling of fear coursed through her veins. They stood still, frozen and barely balanced on the ledge until the truck drove by and the roar of its engines could no longer reach their ears. Her breath came back in full force as Vegeta nodded and pushed forward. “Here, through the window.”

She watched as he climbed through, only for pale arms to suddenly appear and wrap themselves around her father. They dragged him down into the room, with sounds of fighting instantly erupting within the apartment. She quickly forgot her fear of falling as she raced the rest of the way towards the window; luckily for her, her balance was good enough that she didn’t fall. Her hands flew behind her to dig through her backpack, quickly locating and pulling out her gun.

“Dad!”

Her voice caused the attacker to pause, revealing a youthful face with pale skin surrounding dark eyes and all framed by shoulder length black hair. He gaped at her, and in that instant Vegeta took the upper hand, flipping the man – boy, he had to have been in his mid-twenties at the most – over his shoulder and punching him hard in his side repeatedly.

“Stop!” a new voice shrieked, and again the fighting stopped, all eyes turning towards the newcomer. Bra swung her pistol around, aiming it towards whoever it was that had entered the fray, and found herself looking at another girl around the same age as she, with piercing black eyes and short hair hidden underneath an orange bandana. The girl was glaring hard at Vegeta, a shotgun aimed towards his head.

Vegeta got up and backed away, hands in the air. The man whom he had fought was up just as quickly, walking over to the other girl and placating her with quiet words, slowly urging her to lower her weapon. “It’s okay, Pan, they aren’t hunters,” he muttered, one hand going to her shoulder and the other falling on the gun, pushing it down. “They aren’t the enemy.” He turned his gaze back towards the father-daughter duo, eyes shining with something akin to joy. “I actually know them! Been a while, huh, Uncle ‘Geta?”

“You’re Kakarrot’s brat,” her father grunted, brow furrowing as he stared hard at the young man. “Goten.”

The man beamed, unbridled joy radiating from his form. “You actually remember me!” He seemed so flattered, and the amount of admiration that shone in his eyes as he stared at her father caught Bra off guard.

She had never seen someone look at her father with those eyes.

Vegeta scoffed and crossed his arms, a familiar scowl settling on his features. “How could I forget? You and Trunks were practically inseparable.” Bra gasped. Her parents never mentioned her older brother, who had died right at the start of the outbreak (from a gunshot wound, of all things). It was a wonder she knew about his existence at all. “And besides, you look exactly like Kakarrot. It’s almost sickening.” He then snorted as his sights narrowed in on Goten’s raggedy hair. “Although with that hair you look like your grandmother.”

“Hey!” Goten indignantly cried, self-consciously tugging at his hair. “I like my ‘do!” He then turned to Bra, “So, you guys had another kid? Or is Aunt Bulma shorter than I remember?” He was smiling, teasing, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so cheerful given where they were.

She huffed and crossed her arms, looking more like her father in that instance with her scowl and frown. “My name is Bra, thank you very much.” Instead of looking put off by her attitude, as so many before him had, he merely smirked, and the girl by his side snickered a bit.

“And what of her?” Vegeta asked, nodding his head towards the other teen, reminded of her presence when she had laughed.

Her smile fell and she stood up straight, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks as she looked towards him with respect. “I’m Pan, sir. It’s an honor to meet you!” Bra blinked, unable to do much else as she processed the girl’s words.

What had Pan been told, to look at her father in such a way?

Goten placed a hand on Pan’s shoulder, dark eyes shining with pride, as he stood tall next to her. “She’s my niece.”

“So that fool Gohan actually had a kid? I didn’t know he had it in him.”

Bra winced at her father’s insult and nearly cringed when she saw the pair’s reaction to his words. Both looked…hurt, however where Goten expressed it with sad eyes and a frown, Pan transferred her grief to anger, the respect dropping from her gaze and replaced with hatred as she snarled at Vegeta. The hand on her shotgun twitched, as though she wished to bring it up and shoot him, and she ground her teeth together. With a quick spin of her heels, she turned around and stormed out of the room, returning where she had come from with booming stomps.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Goten muttered, looking sheepish as he blinked away tears. “Gohan… Gohan, uh, died recently. It’s actually the reason we’re out here and not with the others on Mt. Paozu. She…ran away when it happened and I followed after her.” He swallowed thickly, all the cheerful brightness that had surrounded him suddenly gone, leaving a broken young man in its place. “I take it that’s where you’re going?”

Vegeta grunted, uncrossing his arms as he moved forward to stand closer to Goten. “Yes, actually. Tights still lives there, doesn’t she?” He waited for a response, which was immediately given in the form of a swift nod. “I have to speak to her, figure out where her father is. It’s imperative that we find him.”

“And Bulma?”

Vegeta’s frown twitched and Bra decided it would be best to leave before the conversation could advance much further. She followed after Pan, the curiosity of being around someone her own age gnawing at her. Stepping through the doorway, she found Pan instantly; she was sitting on a couch in the center of the room sulking, her legs brought up to her chest with tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Bra said nothing as she moved across the room, hesitantly taking a seat next to the grieving girl. Neither spoke for a beat or two.

“Sorry.”

Pan turned her head, dark eyes staring at her incredulously. “For what?”

Bra sighed, fidgeting with her pistol, only then realizing that she hadn’t put it away. “For my dad, I guess? And your father.”

“Sorry won't bring him back.” Biting, angry. Bra knew that reaction all too well.

“I know. I, uh, I lost my mom not too long ago.”

“Oh.”

Too sad, the conversation was too damn sad and depressing. Bra huffed in frustration – why did everything have to be sad? She was sick of darkness, of bleak hopelessness, of grief. She was around someone her own age, darn it! When was the last time that happened? Marron, nearly half a year beforehand, that was when. No, Bra was determined to be happy for once, with someone who was in the same position as she. So with determination pushing her forward, she turned towards Pan and not-so-subtly changed the subject. “So, how old are you?”

Her words came out a bit louder than she intended, and Pan jumped, startled by her sudden question. She looked over towards Bra, dropping her legs so that her feet rested on the ground. Her dark eyes still shone with unshed tears, although confusion had replaced the grief. “My age?” she repeated, bewildered. “I’m fifteen.”

Bra perked up, smiling brightly; her assumption had been right! “Really? I am too!” Her smile dropped and her shoulders slumped. “Or, well, I will be in a few months.”

Pan sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe away her tears, and smiled towards Bra. Both hearts lifted as they began to eagerly speak to each other.

* * *

Bra didn’t understand why she had to be in the room. Surely her father was more than capable of breaking the bad news to Goku and Chi-Chi without her involvement? Vegeta was a rather blunt man and she’d seen him deliver news just as horrible in the past.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly  _known_  those people. Not as well as he knew the Sons, at least.

“So, Vegeta, what brings you to our little outpost?” Goku asked as soon as everyone was settled down in the living room of the Son household. His voice was bright and cheerful, and Bra could practically see his smile in the way he spoke.

Her mother had always said that he was a cheerful fellow, smiling even when things seemed hopeless. She refused to look up from her lap and confirm it.

“I assume that Yamcha told you why we were here,” she heard her father grunt. A soft sigh from Chi-Chi and a tired chuckle from Goku followed Vegeta’s words, which likely made him scowl. That seemed like the silent sort of response he’d give, anyhow.

“Well,” Goku began, laughter in his voice, “Yamcha did mention something about Tights, but that you insisted on seeing me first?” He ended with a question, his tone sounding so similar to Goten’s whenever he was unsure. He was probably pulling the same face, too, with his head tilted to the side and –

There was a beat of silence, and Bra clenched her eyes shut and took in a deep breath to steady herself. Her father must’ve confirmed that they needed to speak with them and then pushed no further. He was beating around the bush, and the knowledge only made Bra feel worse.

The sound of cushions shifting came from the other couch, followed by Chi-Chi’s voice – it was smooth, gentle, and unlike any voice Bra had ever heard. “How’s Lazuli? We haven’t…really heard from her after she left when Krillin passed, just knew that she was supposedly heading your way. Did she...?”

“18 is fine,” Vegeta gruffly responded, using the title that the woman had gained in their quarantine zone. If either Goku or Chi-Chi were confused by the nickname, they didn’t speak it. “Or as fine as one can be after losing their daughter.” There’s the bluntness.

Bra looked up when she heard Chi-Chi gasp and instantly regretted it upon seeing the pained looks on the couple’s faces. Goku had a deep frown marring his features, looking so much older in that moment. Chi-Chi, meanwhile, had tears shining in her eyes but refused to let any fall.

“So she was pregnant when she left?” Goku asked, voice no longer containing the same bounce it had when the conversation began, “Or did she move on?”

Vegeta shrugged, sitting back in his seat. “Considering Marron,” Bra flinched at the name, “had no nose, I assume she was pregnant when she left.”

“And now she’s gone?” Chi-Chi gasped, hands clutched together right over her heart. Bra recalled how Goten mention his brother’s recent passing and wondered if that was why the news of Marron’s death, someone they didn’t even know existed, was affecting the couple in such a way. A knot formed in her throat. “Oh, poor dear! To lose one’s child...” Chi-Chi’s voice wandered off, her bottom lip quivering as her shoulders began to quake. “How did she go?”

“She was bitten.”

It took Bra a few seconds to register the fact that she had been the one to speak. Three pairs of dark eyes turned her way, one as unreadable as ever while the other two shone with confusion. Bra stared back, eyes wide with fright.

Goku was the one to break the silence, a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes being sent her way as he leaned forward to hold out his hand. “You must be Bra. Yamcha said that was your name at least.” She nodded in confirmation, hesitantly taking and shaking his hand while she did so. “He wasn’t kidding when he said you looked just like her. Y’know, your mom was my first friend!”

She didn’t know that. She knew that Goku had been one of Bulma’s oldest and closest friends, but the fact that she had been Goku’s first ever friend...

“Yamcha,” Chi-Chi cut in, returning her attention to Vegeta, “had mentioned that Bulma wasn’t with you. Is she...?”

Bra went back to looking at her lap. She had thought she’d move past her mother’s death but in that moment it was just as raw and open as it had been six months ago.

“Is she dead? Yes.” Her father’s voice was quiet, soft almost, radiating with a sadness that she rarely ever heard from him. “We were trying to get out of the quarantine zone, she was bitten, and when the military came after us she stayed behind to buy us some time. Said she’d rather be shot to death than turn into one of those things.”

Images of that day played through Bra’s mind – of Bulma pulling down her collar to show the bite she got on her neck, of Vegeta shouting at both of them and at the sky, looking angrier than either had seen him in years. Of the quiet, tear-stained goodbye between her parents as Bulma calmed him down, of not even getting the chance to give her mother a proper farewell as the military drew close. The sound of gunfire that still echoed so clearly in Bra’s ears. Looking over the balcony as they rushed past the soldiers to escape the building and catching a glimpse of Bulma’s body...

“Why did you leave, though?” Goku’s voice cut through the memories, bringing Bra back to the present. “Why would you leave the protection of the zone?”

“Please,” Vegeta scoffed, “you know as well as I do that those zones are hardly safe. People die and get infected all the time!”

“But it’s certainly safer in there than wandering the country by foot!” Chi-Chi’s voice was louder now, higher in pitch. She was close to shouting, her voice taking on the same properties Pan’s did whenever she was upset. “Especially with someone as young as Bra!”

“Bra is more than capable of handling herself,” Vegeta huffed, his tone a strange mixture of indignation and pride. “She has proven herself time and time again. And the reason we left is the same reason we’re here: we’re trying to find Doctor Briefs.”

“Doctor Briefs? Bulma’s father?” Goku’s tone seemed to have lightened some, which was a relief for Bra. His voice sounded so unnatural when it was weighed down. “Didn’t Bulma know?”

“She said he would be at Capsule Corporation, but the place had long been abandoned by the time we got there. Tights is our best bet on where to look next.”

“Why is it so important that you find him?”

Bra held her breath at Chi-Chi’s question, quickly glancing towards her father to see what he’d do. Vegeta was still, arms crossed and back straight, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared hard at the woman. After a moment he relented, shoulders slouching only slightly as he finally answered. “Bra’s immune.” He turned to Bra before either of the couple could respond, nodding his head in a way she interpreted as “Show them.”

With a small gulp, she sat up and rolled up the sleeve on her right arm. Twin gasps filled the room as soon as the scar was visible, and Bra once again found herself looking away. It wasn’t long before soft hands were grabbing her own, gently running over the old wound, and she found herself meeting Pan’s kind, black eyes, which shone with concern.

“When did this happen?” Chi-Chi quietly asked, the hand holding Bra’s tightening just slightly.

Bra bit her lip and looked down at the scar, remembering the day she got the wound like it was yesterday.

_“Bra...Bra your arm.” And then Marron held up her own hand, the bite wound on her palm bleeding profusely._

“Same time as Marron.”

Suddenly, she was being hugged, Chi-Chi’s embrace warming her to the very core. Bra responded instantly, wrapping her arms around the woman, hugging her fiercely and taking comfort in the contact.

“I still don’t understand why you insisted on seeing me, though,” Goku suddenly cut in, and ice broke through the warm shield that Bra had allowed herself to be surrounded in. She quietly pulled away, the hug no longer bringing her any comfort. “I mean, Tights has a right to all of this information more than we do. Why rush to tell us first? Or why tell us at all?”

Vegeta waited until Chi-Chi returned to her spot on the couch next to her husband before speaking. “We were trapped in East City by hunters on our way up here,” he began, voice gruff, eyes glued on the space between the couple’s heads. “While there, we ran into two people, a young man and a girl, who said they were heading this way themselves. Together, the four of us were able to get out of the city.” His voice wavered, and a look of unease fell upon Goku’s face when Vegeta took a moment to gather his thoughts. “However, when we reached an abandoned village, we were ambushed by infected.”

“Vegeta,” Goku interrupted, skin going pale as he began to piece together where the tale was headed. One hand held tightly against Chi-Chi’s arm, causing her to look at him with confusion and fright, while the other grasped onto the arm of the couch, his hold so strong his knuckles were white and the wood cracking beneath the fabric could easily be heard.

Vegeta ignored him, however, and simply pressed forward. “One of them, the girl, was bitten. When she had turned and we were forced to kill her, the other... took his own life.”  Goku was shaking now, Chi-Chi quickly mimicking his distress as she, too, realized just who it was Vegeta spoke of.

“Who...who were they?” Goku asked as soon as the other man paused in his story. Bra felt bile rise in her throat at the desperation in his tone.

“We...we sent out search party after search party...” Chi-Chi muttered, no longer fully paying attention to the conversation; her free hand raked through her hair and pulled it out of the tight bun she kept it in. “For weeks, we looked for them, how could they have gotten all the way out to East City?”

“Vegeta, who were they? What were their names?”

* * *

“Do you remember that last Christmas party? The one right before the outbreak?” 

The night was cool, with the small fire in the old fireplace being their only source of warmth. The cabin was dark, with no electricity (although it seemed as though it had lacked such luxuries even before the outbreak) and the whole structure stunk of rotting wood; but it was perfect for one night of shelter and protection. 

Goten sat closest to the fire, roasting a small lizard on a stick as his supper. The light of the flames flickered across his dark eyes, his whole form seeming to glow along with the blaze as fond memories danced through his mind. “You and Dad got into that drinking contest and drank so much wine! And then somehow you guys decided it would be a good idea to start a fight and Aunt Bulma got so mad she kicked you out!” He pulled the lizard away from the fire and poked it before taking a bite. “You decided to go ahead and fight in the snow!”

Bra snorted, unable to really imagine her father partaking in such antics. Much to her disbelief, though, Vegeta barked out a laugh and nodded. “Yes, I remember! I won that battle. Even while intoxicated, I was superior to Kakarrot.”

Goten accusingly pointed his stick, half-eaten lizard and all, towards her father and vigorously shook his head. “No way! Dad totally kicked your butt!”

When Vegeta merely smirked and shook his head, acting so lighthearted around Goten, Bra decided that it was time for her to head over to the other room Pan had snuck into earlier. “You were, what, seven when that happened? Your memory of the event is rusty, boy,” she heard him retort as she pushed herself off the ground.

“You were drunk off your ass! You have no room to talk!”

She giggled at Goten’s words before pulling the door open and sneaking inside, quietly shutting it behind her. Pan sat at an old desk not too far away from the door, her eyes glued on a stack of canned foods that they had gathered in the village before the ambush. Bra grinned towards her friend, amazed by the fact that she was already comfortable enough around the other girl to consider her a close friend despite the short time they had spent together. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad so happy! I mean, except with Mom, of course.”

Pan didn’t even glance up, instead simply picked up a can and examined it closely. The smile on Bra’s face fell immediately, her brow furrowing as she walked further into the room. “What are you up to?”

“Taking inventory,” Pan grumbled, eyes not turning away from the can in her hand.

Bra moved to stand in front of the desk and firmly placed both hands down on it. The slap of flesh hitting the wooden surface was enough to draw Pan’s attention, a storm raging in those black depths as she glared up at her. Despite the intimidating pose she took, making herself tower over the other, when Bra spoke again it was with a kind and understanding tone. “What’s wrong?”

This caught Pan off guard, the glare giving way for... well, Bra couldn’t quite place the emotion she saw on Pan’s face in that moment. “I, I just...” Pan swallowed and sat back, pushing the chair away from the desk. “It’s nothing.”

Clearly, it wasn’t.

Bra bit her lip as she watched Pan push herself out of the chair and walk towards the window. The moonlight that filtered through it was the only thing that kept the room illuminated, and when Pan drew close to the source, the shadows on her face seemed to grow.

“Is...is this about the village earlier?” Bra tentatively tried, desperate to figure out what was wrong but not wishing to push the wrong buttons. “Because you were great out there! We all were, we’re a good team.”

Pan’s shoulders slumped as she continued to stare out the window. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” She let out a heavy sigh. “Aren’t you ever scared?”

“All the time,” came Bra’s instant response, not even second spared to think over her answer. “Terrified, actually. No matter where you are, you’re constantly in danger and the idea that I or anybody around me could die at any moment... it’s very frightening.” She shrugged and walked around the desk, easily hefting her body up so that she sat on it. She ignored the way it creaked under her weight. “I guess, through everything, I just got used to hiding it. Infected might not care about your emotional state, but humans sure do.” She looked over towards Pan, unnerved by the fact that throughout that entire time her friend never turned away from the window. “Are you? Scared, I mean.”

Bra’s heart practically sang when Pan reacted with a snort and finally turned to face her. “I thought it was obvious,” she joked, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Naaah. You’ve gotten pretty good at masking your emotions yourself.”

“I guess so.” Pan then frowned and walked back to the chair, sitting down and facing Bra head on. “I was just... just thinking about the infected. What if they’re still in there, the people they used to be?” She took in an unsteady breath and Bra unconsciously dug her nails into the wood beneath her. “What if my dad was still awake in there, with no control over his body, screaming for help? And we just... we just killed him?” She was close to breaking, Bra could tell, but stubbornly held herself together as she vented her thoughts. “I’m just... I’m afraid that’ll happen to me, too.”

Her thoughts were valid ones. Bra recalled thinking the same thing back when Marron turned; that had to have been one of the worst things she’d ever witness. In the span of a few hours, a day at most (time blurred together as they waited out for their inevitable end), Marron’s body and actions shifted. Her skin molted and mutated, the fungus spreading across her body. Her hair that was once a shiny blonde became matted with blood as they fought off wave after wave of infected. Her actions, once calculated and deadly, became sluggish and random. She spoke less and less until the only noises she made were shrieks and growls. And her eyes, the eyes had been the worst part for Bra – dark eyes that shone with warmth and life became glazed and filled with mindless malice. Her eyes had been the last thing Bra noticed before Marron turned and attacked her.

Instinct then kicked in.

And she ended her best friend’s life, using the very knife that had kept them alive up until that point.

She had wondered so many times after that moment, between the “oh my god”s and the constant chant of “Why didn’t I turn, why am I still here?” and the overall screaming, if Marron had been forced to witness her own friend killing her.

“No,” she practically growled out, staring hard into Pan’s startled eyes – she realized, then, just how different her eyes were to Marron’s, despite being the same color. Hers were darker, rounder, and far more innocent. Bra pushed those thoughts aside and pressed forward. “I’ve thought it over myself and… They may look like people, Pan, but that person they were is long gone. Once they’re infected, it's like...”

“Dying?”

Well, that was one word for it.

When she got no real response, Pan simply sighed and shook her head. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reached up to pull the orange bandana off. As black hair fell free, long bangs dropping down and covering her eyes, she let out a frustrated growl that made Bra giggle.

“Do you want a hair cut?” Bra offered her friend as she began to shrug off her backpack. “I have some scissors that are in pretty good condition.”

Another sigh and another shake of her head. “No, I’m fine,” Pan answered as she scooted the chair back towards the desk. “Doesn’t really matter anyway.”

Bra nodded, quickly hopping down and moving out of Pan’s way. “That’s true. I’m sure someone over on Mount Paozu is better at it than I am anyway.” Her friend’s mood suddenly darkened at her lighthearted suggestion, her form stiffening as her eyes became hard. Bra shifted nervously and headed towards the door. It was probably time for her to leave. “Well, I’m beat. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Pan merely hummed, her attention turning back towards the cans on the desk.

Bra sighed as she walked out of the room. She didn’t sleep well at all that night.

* * *

When Bra awoke the next morning, it was to a delicious smell she had never experienced before. The closest thing she could compare it to was the stew 18 would sometimes make if she or Marron had been fortunate enough to get the proper materials for it. This smell, however, was much nicer, fuller, and it made her stomach growl loudly as she pushed herself off of the floor. A quick glance around the room revealed her father by the window, keeping an eye out for any enemies, and Goten by the fireplace, a small pot resting on top of the freshly lit flames. He grinned her way as he stirred whatever was cooking inside.

“Mornin’!” he greeted, lifting up his free hand to wave. She smiled and nodded, her eyes wandering to gaze curiously at the pot the amazing smell was emitting from. Goten chuckled. “It’s soup, like my mom sometimes makes. Although, I’m missing a few key ingredients so it’s probably not as good.” He shrugged and turned back to the food. “It’s almost ready. Go wake up Pan and we’ll eat before heading out!”

Bra nodded again, stifling a yawn as she stood. She quickly ran a hand through her hair and muttered a soft “Okay,” before moving towards the room she had left Pan in the night before. She knocked and waited a few seconds before opening the door. “Hey, Pan, are you...up...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on her friend.

Pan’s back was turned towards her, shoulders hunched and form twitching. A few grunts were vocalized as her head slowly swayed side to side.

Bra’s heart sank.

She recognized that stance, those movements and sounds. No...no, no, no no no nononono–

Against her better judgment, she stepped into the room. “Pan?”

The infected turned around and shrieked, dark eyes staring at her but not really seeing.

She barely recalled screaming as she was tackled to the ground, once again forced to fight off what remained of her friend in order to keep herself alive. Shouts from her father and Goten reached her ears but she couldn’t make out their words, too focused on keeping Pan... no, the infected from killing her.

A gunshot blasted somewhere above her head.

_“Where’s Marron?” 18 demanded, her deep voice cold and threatening as she pointed her gun right at Bra’s head. Bra didn’t respond, struggling to not completely break down in front of the woman she looked up to and practically considered her aunt. A warning shot was fired, the bullet rushing by her head and making her flinch. “Where the fuck is my daughter?!”_

“That’s my niece!” Goten’s desperate cry was the first and only thing she was able to register as she cried and fought off the infected.

Another gunshot blared in her ears, and suddenly the form on top of her stilled. Bra acted quickly, rolling her body and pushing the corpse off of her. As soon as she was free she felt the arms of her father wrap around her, Vegeta pulling her close to his chest. Her eyes remained glued on Pan’s prone form, not bothering to hold back the tears as she cried and mourned the loss of her friend. She noticed, then, that one of the pant’s legs was rolled up, revealing the fresh bite mark right below the knee.

She almost threw up.

Anguished whines drew her attention away from the body, blue eyes landing on Goten. His back was pressed against the wall, eyes wide as he stared down at Pan. “What have you done?” he mumbled, his words so quiet and hushed she could barely make them out. “Gohan, I...I’m so sorry, oh god.” His arm shook as he brought his gun up and stared at it with disgust.

Bra only then realized that her father’s gun was still in his bag, far out of his reach.

Vegeta stood, whispering a demand to stay put that she all too readily agreed to. He walked forward, keeping himself small, hands in the air. Goten continued to mutter to himself, his words becoming more disjointed, his tears cleaning off the dirt and grime that had accumulated on his face. “Easy, there,” her father breathed, trying his best to be soothing.

It evidently didn’t work, for Goten simply turned to him, gun aimed towards her father. “It’s all your fault!” he shrieked. Bra moved further behind her father, terror and guilt and all different forms of pain and panic and adrenaline rushing through her veins. She clenched her eyes shut.

“It’s nobody’s fault, Goten. Just...don’t do anything rash.”

Goten sobbed.

“Goten, don’t!”

A third and final gunshot rang throughout the cabin.

* * *

It had taken them a few hours to dig the graves, but Bra didn’t really register any of it. She felt numb, uncomfortable in her own skin. She didn’t complain, not once, as she sweltered under the harsh sun, covered in dirt as she and her father chipped away at the ground, which was something of an accomplishment for her. She was actually disappointed when the work was completed, for then there would be nothing to distract her from the reality of things.

Reality isn’t something that can really be ignored, though.

She climbed out of the freshly dug hole, body aching like never before, and was shocked to see Vegeta kneeling down by the bodies, checking their pockets and shifting through their bags. “What are you doing?” she screeched as she rushed forward to stop him. They had just died, for crying out loud! What right did he have to loot from them?

Vegeta sent her a sharp glare, and Bra instantly came to a stop. She kept forgetting that he knew them, that Goten had been Trunks’s best friend. She argued no further and kneeled down next to him, pulling Pan’s backpack away.

“We’re likely going to run into Kakarrot and Chi-Chi,” he muttered as she pulled the zipper open. “They deserve a memento.”

She nodded silently and shuffled through the pack. Nothing in there seemed to be anything personal, outside of the orange bandana Pan always wore – when she had left Mt. Paozu, Pan must not have thought to pack anything she held dear. Bra glanced over towards her father, hoping to get an idea as to what she should look for in whatever he found.

He pulled out a wallet and a necklace.

She returned her attention to Pan’s bag, gently folding the bandana and placing it neatly in her lap. It took her a few more minutes before she finally found something stuck in the bottom of the bag. At first, she thought it was a ball, only feeling the smooth, round surface. However, when she pulled out the orange sphere, four red stars twinkling within it, she quickly concluded that it was a bit more important than some ordinary ball.

“I recognize that.” Bra’s head slowly turned towards Vegeta, who was staring at the sphere with great intensity. “Kakarrot said it belonged to his grandfather. Gohan used to wear it all the time on his hat.” He frowned and stood, stuffing Goten’s belongings into his backpack. “I believe his grandfather’s name was Gohan as well.”

Bra nodded and gulped. With careful hands, not wishing to break what was obviously such a precious heirloom (although, given how much that sphere had survived through, such care was likely not necessary), she wrapped the bandana around the sphere and gently put it into her own bag.

It didn’t take them long to bury the bodies. As they stood over the unmarked graves, Bra wondered if she should at least be grateful that they were able to do something with their bodies.

Marron’s was stuck in the middle of that blasted mall.

Bulma, her own mother, was still laying on the floor of that capitol building, surrounded by the few soldiers she was able to take down before her demise.

…But why should she be grateful? What difference did it make that Goten and Pan were buried, while Marron and Bulma rotted out in the open? They were still dead, gone all the same, and she...

She was so tired of losing people.

“Come on,” Vegeta said, hand on her shoulder slowly pulling her away from the graves. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

Bra nodded and swung her backpack on. She winced as the sphere within dug into the small of her back, a reminder of the lives that had been lost.

Her bag had never felt so heavy.

* * *

“What were their names?!” Goku roared when Vegeta refused to answer, flinging himself onto his feet and glaring down at the other man. It was so unsettling, even for Bra who had barely just met the man.

He was so much like Goten. And Goten rarely ever got so angry.

Chi-Chi stood next to her husband, placing a small hand on his chest to gently push him back down to the couch. He gave no resistance, dropping down ungracefully, the rage on his face twisting into grief. Once he was seated, she returned to the couch as well, dark eyes staring at Vegeta pleadingly.

Her father grunted and pulled off his backpack, easily swinging it around so that it rested in his lap. It took him all of five seconds to open the bag and pull out Goten’s wallet and necklace, and he wordlessly handed the items over to Chi-Chi. She broke down as soon as the items were in her hands, recognizing them instantly.

Vegeta turned to her. Bra’s whole form shuddered as she mimicked her father’s actions, pulling the backpack off and quickly retrieving the item inside. She handed the bandana-covered sphere to Goku, his eyes briefly lighting up with recognition upon spotting the orange fabric. She didn’t want to watch as he carefully took it from her hands, but found she couldn’t look away.

When Goku pulled the bandana away, revealing the orange glassy sphere beneath, his face became blank. Chi-Chi took one look at the heirloom in her husband’s hands and cried louder, her anguished wails being the only noise in the room.

After a few minutes, Vegeta stood, and Bra instinctively followed him.

They weren’t welcomed there any longer.

Goku blinked, startled out of whatever trance he had fallen under upon spotting the sphere. He coughed roughly and stood, handing the object off to his wife as he addressed the duo. “Thank you,” he began, voice rough with barely restrained emotions. “I’m sure Yamcha would be more than willing to take you to Tights. You should... You should be able to find him easily enough, right?”

Vegeta nodded, and with that, the two silently made their exit. As soon as the door closed behind them, a deep, half-choked sob emitted from the room. It was soon followed by many more and Bra struggled to steady her breath as the sound rang loudly in her ears.

It wasn’t until she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her forward, that she realized she had stopped.

“Let’s go find your aunt.”


End file.
